


the truth unravels itself.

by orphan_account



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Short One Shot, a lil bit self indulgent, might do a continuation of this in the future who knows, theres fluff at the end i swear!, this is saiouma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A lie becomes real if you delude yourself in it.At least that's how it worked for Ouma.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Kudos: 106





	the truth unravels itself.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, this is something I wrote like WEEKS WEEKS ago but I never really uploaded it? 
> 
> IM thinking of doing a sequel in the future to this fanfic, who knows tho.. please enjoy!~

There was a spike puncturing the fabric of his mind, and shredding it apart with precise movements. A static clouded the location of his inner musings, and made its way to his ears. A buried knot was in the ruins of his brain, twisting and pulling. Unease licked the walls of his stomach, slathering a pool of anxiety in his gut, sound not registering.

He ignored the trepidation clawing at the back of his mind, a flippant grin that he masked his being with, petals of authenticity that he'd torn with his own hands and split the stem supporting it, because he had to do it, he had to lie despite the need to be honest welling up in his core. 

Even when it came to his own feelings, Ouma was a liar. 

His breath caught in his throat, windpipe being obstructed by the bitter taste of lies and an obstinate path he chose to lead. The concealed truths beeping like the final words of a ticking time bomb and detonating, a despair that reached the deepest parts of his body and enclouded it with misery. 

Ouma swayed, legs wobbly shutting the door behind him, unsure of what area surrounded him because all he could see was shame. A disgust that bred in favor of Ouma, and swirled uncontrollably inside of him. 

Ouma really didn't like being by himself. Because when he was, he wept. The tears that streaked down his face were not a lie, but a genuine emotion that hid in the silhouettes of his mind. And he had to think, come to a bitter realization that he was a vile person, a realization that played like a record inside the recesses of his mind, because even before he knew he was nothing short but of terrible. 

He exploited the dreadful sentiments that were scattered like pieces of glass, blades digging into his skin every time a lie left his mouth. But desolate, all that left his mouth were broken cries and a mourning that he did not deserve to express. 

The world around Ouma span, revolving without him. His body struggled to keep still, tremors wracking his physique and a teetering he couldn't control. He bit his lip, canines delving into the softness of his bottom lip so hard blood spilled to prevent the sobs he could feel raking violently in his throat. Even then he could barely breath from how hard he was crying, not being able to sustain the strength of sitting up he fell to the ground, curling up on himself. 

Liquid stained the snow white shade of his cloth, a irritating ringing that adorned his hearing and nausea kept biting at him, an imaginary bile building up as he trembled helplessly on the floor. 

Ouma continued to wail, though in his distress he failed to notice the locking of the door behind him, and the quiet gasp. With much effort, he cranked open his eyes to be met with a glittering gold. He froze at being caught, like a cornered animal he submitted himself to the grabbing hands of the ground, and he was now open and vulnerable to the enigma in front of him.

Saihara.

He attempted to play it off as another of his lies, but he couldn't will himself to because he knew if he spoke the sobs he'd been trying to block would surface. Ouma pathetically crawled, his vision was blurred with tears but the colors weren't dulled, and he creeped towards under what he assumed to be a desk. 

"O-ouma?" He heard the other stutter predictably so, and as a response all Ouma did was sit up and breath harshly, violet eyes visible under the shadows of the desk. He started quivering, hearing the other shuffle closer and soon was behind him. 

"I-It's just me Ouma.." That's the issue! He shrieked inside of his mind, a terror at being seen in a vulnerable position, and he could barely muffle his cries, barely being able to be interactive because his body shouted at him to cry, run, a variety of emotions he didn't understand completely.

"I-It's okay Ouma... Let it all out..." Saihara's tone seemed sorrowful, and a strange struggle to not cry, which puzzled Ouma to no end, because why would Saihara cry for someone as awful as him? 

A gentle touch snaked its way up to the palm of his hand, a rhythm that went on and on. Saihara was making motions on the palm of his hand, tracing the lines and rubbing circles, he let a little of his already breaking composure slip, not trying to hold back the tears in front of Saihara anymore. 

With little steps, he started unwinding, the knots in his brain untangling and the ringing getting less in intensity. 

Then, he finally snapped.

His body collided with Saihara, face shoved into his chest and he wrapped his shaking arms around Saihara's torso, teardrops sullying Saihara's attire. The sobs he tried so forcefully to mask ended up tearing its way through his mouth, a prolonged bawl that erupted from inside him. 

A hand combed his hair, strumming it tenderly like strings of an alluring instrument, the strands of his lavender colored hair sticking out messily as Saihara pet him. He gripped onto the material of Saihara's clothing firmly, melting against the source of warmth against his shivering body, an abnormal feeling of calm. 

The sobs regressed to soft cries, and the soft cries turned into nothing more then sniffling. He inhaled between his sniffles, selfishly going closer to Saihara, a shaky sigh feeling Saihara coddle him in his arms, he was near enough he could smell the shampoo Saihara used. 

He nuzzled his head on Saihara's chest, a blotchy faded red now gracing his face instead of the tears from earlier. Ouma felt serene, a fleeting moment as he was held by Saihara so carefully. 

With despair obscured from his consciousness,

Ouma's thoughts weren't littered with lies for once.


End file.
